Chuck vs the Drunken Debauchery
by Fire From Above
Summary: After Bryce and Chuck graduate from college and before they enter the CIA, they decide to take a road trip to celebrate. Unfortunately, they seem to attract a lot of trouble. And Bryce can't hold his liquor. Poor Chuck.
1. We need a beginning

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck or his associated characters. They belong to the show and NBC. I just want to put them into a bunch of embarrassing and ridiculous situations._

"Do you understand me? You are not to interfere with his recruitment." Professor Flemming gave Bryce a hard stare before turning back to his notes. "His test scores put him at the top five percent of candidates for Project Omaha. He will be recruited, he will be tested, and then he will be put to use as we see fit."

Bryce ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to gain control of the raging emotions inside of him. "He does well on paper, but he is a good guy. Totally not cut out for the spy world. I can't let this happen to him."

Bryce had been bitching at him for almost half an hour, and the good professor had another class starting in ten minutes. He leaned back in his chair and fixed the upstart recruit with a stony glare. "Listen, and listen well Recruit Larkin. You better learn your place soon. Agents are to follow orders, not question them. And you aren't even an agent yet. You have no say in the matter, and any attempts to keep Mr. Bartowski from joining the agency will be blamed on you."

"What if he cheated?"

"I will know better, because any attempts to keep Mr. Bartowski from joining the agency will be blamed on you. If you will excuse me, I have a class to teach, papers to grade, and a potential supercomputer to recruit."

XXXX

Bryce lay on his back staring at the ceiling. Right now he could imagine his best friend's shocked expression over the CIA recruiting him for a top secret project. Chuck would most surely agree out of the ideal of serving the country and saving people from bad guys. He was too noble to pass up an opportunity to help on such a large scale.

The young recruit groaned and rolled onto his side. How was he supposed to deal with such a kind and innocent guy like Chuck in the spy life? Bryce was going (hoping) to be the most badass spy ever seen in the world, but he felt so powerless in this situation. How was he supposed to save the world if he couldn't save his best friend?

Speak of the devil. At that moment Chuck burst through the door in a bundle of excitement, nervousness, shock, and probably a couple of other things that Bryce couldn't come up with at the moment. "Dude!"

"Chuck?"

"Are you-"

"Yeah. I got recruited a while back." Bryce was watching Chuck, who didn't seem to know how to respond. He still seemed to be processing the situation.

"This is big. This is going to change everything." Chuck looked at Bryce with an intensity that he hadn't seen before. "Professor Flemming said that by next September, we're supposed to both start on Project Omaha. I'm assuming you've already done some training? I've also got to start soon. I wonder what exactly I'm going to be doing? What are you doing" He was a bundle of nerves and Bryce had to chuckle at the way Chuck was pacing around and babbling his head off.

As he let Chuck go on, Bryce thought about what was about to happen. He was going to become a spy. There were some things that he knew were going to be dark and morally grey, but it was for the greater good. He wasn't too sure what Chuck was going to be doing, but he knew that it was a super top secret project that had a lot of time and effort from different agencies invested in it.

Chuck finally sat down in a chair and fell into a pensive silence. He spoke, "You know, the future seemed endless with possibilities. But now, I can't shake the feeling that it's looming."

"I agree." Bryce saw the end of innocence, but then saw what the right course of action was. "I guess our childhoods, our days of innocence are almost over. So do you know what we need to do."

Chuck thought it over before tentatively replying, "Prepare for the world of spies and intrigue?"

Bryce gave his roommate a wolfish grin before replying, "That comes later. What are we supposed to do before that? I'll give you a hint, we're in a frat."

Still tentative and mildly confused, "Drink alcohol?"

Bryce was resigned to what was going to happen to the both of them. He didn't necessarily have to like it, but he does have to live with it. If their lives as they knew them were about to end, they should go out on a bang. "Close. We've got to party! Celebrate the end and the beginning of our lives as CIA agents! And for that, I think we need to go on a road trip."

XXXX

Jill sighed. Summer was coming up and she was supposed to start official training with Fulcrum soon. And get a PhD in the process. She originally joined the group because they offered her some sweet chances to further her career and play with the latest technology in biology. However, she was beginning to have doubts. They were hinting at her doing some dubious things. And they wanted her to leave her old friends and family behind. That included Chuck.

"Jill." She looked up and saw Leader enter the conference room. He set up some sort of signal jammer and took a seat before beginning. "You must start preparing for your career, so let's lay out your schedule for the summer."

"Alright," she said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. "I'm not doing anything else, especially since Chuck and his friend Bryce are going on a road trip."

Leader looked at her calculatingly before asking, "Really? What do they plan on doing?" He leaned forward. "And aren't you supposed to break up with your boyfriend? You can't have so many attachments to affect your job and loyalty."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of hard to just break things off. I mean, I've been really distant and bitchy lately so that he would want to leave, but my guy's just too loyal." A look of affection flashed across her face, but she tried to banish it before Leader could see it.

He assessed her a moment longer before a small smile found itself on his face. "Actually, your first assignment is to spy on your boyfriend and his friend. Relay any, interesting information, and try not to get caught."

XXXX

Chuck sighed, trying to get his mind off of Jill. She was really nice about the breakup, but it still hurt. He was hoping to work on their relationship and get things back to the way things were, but she cut that chance off.

Bryce looked at Chuck's forlorn expression while he drove down the 5 freeway. That bitch broke up with him last week, and it was taking a toll on his best friend. Well, there can't be any room for that on the trip. They were supposed to celebrate the end of their formative years before they got into the real world of spies and danger.

"Alright Chuck, I know you're hurting, but you can't stay like that the entire trip. That would just suck. So for now, put Jill out of your mind and focus on the major rebound action you're going to get. Imagine: drinking, babes, good times, hangover mornings, it's going to be great. When we're done, you can have some self pity time over Jill. But now, it's my time to be with you, so you're just going to have to deal at this moment."

Chuck focused on the little pep talk. Normally, he would sulk for a little while longer, but he decided that now was not the time. "I know Bryce. I know I'm being a bit of a drag right now, but I'll put myself together right now. Just focus on helping you not get drunk so easily."

"Hey! I can hold my liquor. My tolerance just wavers every now and then," Bryce exclaimed with indignation.

"Of course. That's why our superiors gave you the order to increase your alcohol tolerance as a side objective in our trip. Seriously, are you a frat boy or not?"

"I am too a frat boy. And I am not some cheap drunk either." He was pouting now. The recruit found it difficult to deny his embarrassment over being a lightweight.

"Right," his friend drawled. "Last time you had one beer and ended up proclaiming to the world that you wet the bed until you were ten."

"Did not," Bryce flat-out denied. And he would keep denying that fact, despite Chuck's video evidence. "You know what? I can have more than one beer before getting drunk."

"That's not saying much."

"Shut-up. I'm making a point. You know what? I'll make that point right now." The agent-in-training at that moment put some of his fancy new driving skills to work and swerved through three lanes of traffic, gaining angry honks and fingers along the way. Chuck screamed along the way. He did a power slide into a run-down parking lot in front of a run-down bar. Dive is probably the more appropriate term.

Chuck finally stopped screaming when they were double-parked in front of a couple of motorcycles. It took him a moment to unleash his death grip on whatever he could grab in the car and get out. He took a few wobbling steps in Bryce's direction, who was already halfway to the door entrance.

"Bryce, can you please give a little warning before you do that again? Or better yet, can you please never do that again?"

"Ah, come on Chuck. That's what you get for insulting my booze tolerance. Come on now, we've got to begin our mission!"


	2. Great Way to Greet the Day

_Disclaimer: Chuck and assorted characters from his show do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them. Also, I do not own Harley._

Author's Note: This is humor, so please don't take anything seriously. Oh, and does anyone want to beta?

* * *

Chapter 2: Great Way to Greet the Day

Slowly, painfully, and unwillingly, he came to consciousness. Bryce groaned at the headache that he was experiencing as he buried his face into the pillow. _Wait a minute, that doesn't feel like a pillow. Or at least any pillow I'm familiar with._

He cracked his eyes open and laboriously lifted himself up a bit to look down on what he was laying on. At this action, he realized that his face had been buried in a voluptuous ass-crack. The horrifying realization caused him to throw himself backwards with a girlish shriek and land on his head on the floor with his legs in the air.

Much more awake now, he assessed his situation. Dark and dingy room, sparse furniture, burgundy curtains trying to shield out the morning sun, and a very large...woman...asleep face down on the bed. And he was naked.

_Oh God, I'm going to be sick._ He felt his mouth water and the bile in his stomach react to his surroundings and the horrid scenarios on what happened the night before going through his head. He stood up on wobbly legs and lurched around for the bathroom. However, he couldn't find it in time and instead opted for emptying his stomach in a wastebasket.

"Mornin' handsome, want to eat out a bit more?" Bryce's eyes widened to terror levels as he straightened up and slowly turned around. The woman on the bed was giving him a dazed and hungry look, more of the sex hungry than food hungry one. He refused to process her words. She did not say a thing. Not at all. Anything to keep any images from getting conjured up. Aw, too late.

"You know, I've really got to go now. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Do you know where my clothes are?" Despite the unflattering predicament, Bryce still tried to be charming. With an easy smile on his face and a jaunty posture, he tried to exude control and confidence in the situation, despite the fact that he was naked and looked horrible after a night of who-knows-what.

"Sure hon, they're right under me. If you want them," at this she pulled a gun out of one of her folds, "you better start dancing for them."

* * *

Chuck was in trouble. Trouble trouble trouble trouble. He ducked, weaved, and sprinted through alleyways trying to escape the thrum of Harley riders after him. Soon, he found himself in front of a small grocery store that he promptly dove into.

Behind an aisle of assorted snacks, he peeked around and saw the riders go past him. With a sigh of relief, he straightened up and took a look around. The cashier that he vaguely recognized from the bar last night was giving him an amused look.

"Um, hey." Chuck nervously shuffled up to the cashier, hoping to get some answers. He looked friendly enough. "I was just wondering, did you see my friend anywhere? We kind of got separated and I don't know where he is and our car is being held hostage by a Harley gang-"

"Hold on, slow down," the cashier stopped Chuck's nervous babbling. "Your friend. Wasn't he the guy getting frisky with Jabba the Slut?"

"...Maybe?"

At that, the cashier gave an impressed whistle. "I've gotta say, I commend the guy for having the balls to bed that beast."

"Yeah, well, he can't hold his liquor." Chuck couldn't find any other excuse for the display he was witness to the previous night. Seriously, if three shots of tequila can do that to him, how is he going to do on missions? Aren't spies supposed to drink a lot for the job? The importance of their mission objective to increase Bryce's alcohol tolerance became a lot salient. If only Chuck can find him.

The cashier gave a sympathetic look and decided to try to cheer Chuck up. "If it's any help, your friend must've done something to piss off the Hardriders. They typically direct people they don't like to The Slut so that she could have herself an alcohol-fueled rapey good time." Hm, that probably didn't come off as comforting as he thought it would, considering the expression on Chuck's face.

"That's horrible!"

"Eh, what are you going to do about it? Double standards and all."

"Even so, I've got to save him. Do you know where he might be? Would he still be with her?" Chuck was feeling like a lousy wingman at the moment. He didn't have Bryce's back at the bar last night, and now Bryce might be getting horribly violated at this very moment! And they had to figure out a way to get their car back. And the Harley gang they had to deal with, the Hardriders?

The cashier appraised Chuck a moment before giving in to the pity of what his friend might be going through. "Okay, I'll tell you where she is. But you have to be careful since she works closely with the Hardriders."

* * *

Jill winced as she caught a brief glimpse between the curtains of whatever heinous crime was happening in the small house. She accidently zoomed out with her spiffy new binoculars, trying to figure out how to adjust them. However, that action allowed her to see Chuck trying to be conspicuous in his approach to the run-down domicile.

She stood up a bit and picked her way down the hill, trying to stay shrouded in the hilltop shrubbery. She had vaguely heard about some sort of evil slut, and Jill could not help the burn of jealousy from wanting her man to stay away from aforementioned strumpet.

* * *

Further up the hill from Jill was Ace Chambers, another rookie Fulcrum agent. He was trying to keep track of Jill as well as the two guys she was supposed to be tailing. He was trying to keep track of who was who, but the two guys looked really similar. And he didn't take a good look at their files in the first place, so he was kind of regretting that now.

* * *

Chuck spied the abode of Jabba the Slut from around the fence of another house across the street. _I hope Bryce is alright. I need a plan to save him, but what? Maybe if I run in there and use the element of surprise? Aw hell, this isn't working out. Anyways, I work best diving into a situation and hoping everything goes alright._

It was a maxim that didn't always work out, but Chuck still stuck by it. So he approached the door, looking every way for anybody who might be a bad guy. He noticed that the door was open a slight crack, so he did as he planned.

"Bryce, are you alright? I'm here to-OH MY GOD! HOLY CRAP ON A STICK! MY EYES!" Chuck burst in, but flung his arm over his eyes and stumbled back out when he was exposed to the scene before him. He tripped and ate dirt, but that pain was the least of his worries.

He tried to shake the burning images from his head and try to get his vision to focus. However, his sense of hearing registered the growling sounds of Harleys. Before he knew it or recover from the trauma, he was roughly getting grabbed and made to stand on his feet. The nerd found himself face to face with the Hardriders.

* * *

Bryce and Jabba were startled at Chuck's quick entrance and exit, but the newbie agent felt a small surge of hope for alleviation of his current humiliation. "Hold on, Chuck! Don't leave me! Please! Come back!"

"NO! NOT UNTIL EVERYONE IS WEARING CLOTHES!"

Bryce started to move to the door, but his captor cocked the gun in her hand to keep him in place. "Why don't you stay there and keep up with the entertainment? And why don't you try to lure your cutie friend in here to join you? I could use with a little more sexing up."

Bryce's stomach churned at that sentence, but he tried his best to keep it down. _I am a spy. I am going to have to do distasteful things in the name of this country. Wait a minute, I'm not doing this for the good of my country. I'm doing this because I got drunk and a bunch of stuff happened last night. What have I ever done, in this life or any other, for me to deserve this?_

He was interrupted when Chuck was thrown into the room by a couple of burly Harley gang members. He quickly scrambled to his feet in a daze, trying to orient himself to what was happening.

"Why, hello there cutie!" Jabba enthused, looking Chuck's frame up and down. She pulled another gun out from somewhere on her person and pointed it at Chuck, which finally forced him to focus his attention. "Why don't you give me a show, like your friend over there?"

The fully clothed nerd spared a quick glance to the pleading face on his decidedly less clothed counterpart before turning back to the lady beast on the bed. Actually, he looked to the side of her because he did not feel comfortable staring at an obese naked woman.

"Um, what will happen if I don't comply with your request?"

The Slut snorted. "Bitch, you don't have a choice." The grin on her face was quite malevolent.

"Okay," Chuck gave up. "What will happen once we do what you say?"

"You get your car back and can continue on your merry little way."

"What do you say, Bryce?"

His friend looked weary and resigned. "Let's just get this over with. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get out and drink away these memories."

* * *

Ace wasn't really sure what was going on. It seemed like one of the guys he was supposed to tail was doing a strip tease for some town-renowned slut. Who wouldn't enjoy that? Maybe he was gay or really religious. And what was with the biker gang?

_Oh well. I should make some sort of report before that Jill chick. Then the higher ups will applaud my proactiveness. I'll fill in the details later, or let them figure things out. Anyways, that's what they're there for._

* * *

The car was awkwardly silent. Chuck and Bryce were lost in their own thoughts, or trying to think things to rationalize or bury the events with Jabba the Slut and the Hardriders. Bryce pushed the car faster and faster, getting further away from the mortification he was just subjected to.

"So," Chuck started, "I guess we should work on increasing and working with our limits of alcohol consumption. You know, so that something like this doesn't happen again? I mean, that is our mission."

"Yeah."

They were starting to get into some urban areas, a welcome change from the farmland they had just been passing through. The odds of meeting Harley gangs seemed much more remote here than where they had just come from.

"Hey Bryce."

"Yeah?"

"For now, why don't we stick to urban bars and nightclubs? And we stay away from roadside bars and diners? Hopefully, we won't get into much trouble." He looked expectantly at Bryce, who was still staring straightforward with his hands holding the wheel in a death grip.

"That might be a good idea." A small grin graced Bryce's features. "And, there might be more girls. Hot girls. Actually, that place over there looks pretty good."

The place he indicated he had just passed on the other side of the road. So Bryce, being the rookie spy that he is, jerked the car over the median into traffic and tore across a couple of lanes. He did another power slide in the parking lot, and actually managed to park in one smooth stroke. Of course, Chuck screamed bloody murder the entire way.

Bryce suavely stepped out of the car, some of his earlier confidence and cockiness over being a badass spy returning (Is he a badass yet? Case in point: this chapter). He strode up to the line where a bouncer was doing his bouncing thing.

"Come on Chuck, we're two guys on a mission here! Let's see how much more we can handle."


	3. Not Good Reasoning

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck, Bryce, or Jill. They belong to NBC. I also do not own Flashdance._

Chapter 3: Not Good Reasoning

His head was throbbing. And he was cold. And naked. Bryce cracked his eyes open, despite the crust that had formed over the night. He took a look around and noticed garbage cans, musty boxes, and overall grime. An alleyway. _Is it bad to wake up in back alleys with no clothes or memories of how one got there?_

Bryce slumped over to a box and started looking around for something to cover himself with. He found a tiny pair of shorts that were able to cover even less than a thong. He didn't want to go walking around with stuff hanging out all over the place, so he tried to find some other article of clothing that wouldn't get him arrested for indecent exposure. The only other article of clothing that could do that was a pair of light red tights (Bryce was not going to acknowledge them as pink). He put those on under the shorts and found a shirt that bared quite a bit of midriff. To adorn his feet, he found some threadbare orange slippers about two sizes too big.

In agent training, recruits are taught to compartmentalize their thoughts, dissociate from torturous situations, and abandon modesty when the situation required it. This was the second time that Bryce had to utilize those skills in a real world situation; impressive considering that he hasn't even had a formal mission yet. To keep his mind off of such subjects like what happened last night and why were those the only clothes he had found, he focused on finding Chuck.

* * *

Fulcrum Commander of West Coast Operations Dorcus Aurella strode into the communications room to get the report from one of their new rookies. "Alright, what's going on with this mission?"

One of the communication techs turned to him and said, "We've got an incoming report from Agent Ace Chambers. He is currently tailing Analyst Jill Roberts and two other guys suspected of being CIA recruits. Leader set Chambers and Roberts on the two others as a first test of competency."

"Really? Patch in Roberts as well. We might as make this a conference call of sorts." With that, Dorcus shoved some other tech out of his chair and opened the frequency with the two other agents. "Roberts, Chambers, you there?"

"This is Chambers reporting in."

"This is Roberts as well."

Dorcus put his feet up on the console, leaned back, and lit a cigar. "So, Chambers. What's going on with whatever you're doing."

"So far, Roberts has been tailing the other two tales reasonably well."

"Wait a minute," Jill cut in, "are you spying on me?"

"Just following orders," Chambers said. "Anyways, one of the other marks was doing a striptease for some lady in a small town. As far as I can tell, he was having a miserable time."

"What? A guy not liking sex stuff? With women? Is he gay? Oh, is he one of those religious sorts who don't like sex?" Dorcus was trying to figure out the information he was just given. He fancies himself as a type of person who is too busy to bother with details, so he goes with whatever gut reaction he might have. That makes him a really creative guy, at least in his head.

Jill spoke up, "Uh, actually-"

"I've got it!" Dorcus interrupted. "Disconnect the calls, I'm sure we've got everything. I'm assuming we're trying to bring this guy in, right? Of course! What we're going to do is make him feel guilty and break his spirit. You!" He spun around and pointed at a female agent who had just entered the room. "Your next mission is to seduce this guy," he held up a picture of Chuck, "so that his spirit could break!"

"...Come again?" She really should have checked to see if Commander Aurella was in the room before entering, per conventional Fulcrum wisdom at the base.

He was really on a roll with his barely formed plan: "Yes, it is cunning and masterful in its simplicity. Those really reserved guys are yearning for a little sin and seduction, so they will easily give in. However, once they do, they feel incredibly guilty. And at that moment," he stood up dramatically and puffed his chest out, "we will show him the path of redemption that Fulcrum allows!"

The sound of keyboards getting frantically typed at greeted Dorcus at his bold proclamation. Frowning at the lack of hooting and cheering, Dorcus grabbed an analyst and lifted him off his feet. "WELL?" he bellowed.

Knowing the temper of the commander, and his proclivity toward violence, the analyst hastily agreed. "Excellent plan. There is no way for it to fail."

Dropping the waifish tech, Dorcus turned back to the female agent. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go get him!"

The agent, one Hannah Steward, got the vague lowdown on her mark and went on her way. _Oh well, at least he's cute. And it gets me out of the vicinity of Commander Aurella. This should be easy._

* * *

"And I'm telling you, I'm not a mechanic! I work with computers, and how to program them. I don't know the first thing about cars."

"Well, you've still got that big egghead Stanford education! And cars have computers. We just need you to work on those car computers."

"But it's not the same thing. I work with regular computers, not cars. Get a professional mechanic or something."

"But a computer is still a computer!"

Ernie was getting a headache from the back and forth between his boss and the computer nerd they had picked up at the bar last night. It was an extremely tautological(1) conversation that did not seem to have an end in sight. Those two were basically saying the same thing over and over again, but using different words, for the past hour.

Just as Ernie was about to leave to continue work on a recently stolen Cadillac, Bill came in. He whispered something into Ernie's ear and turned around to get away from the argument between the boss and geek.

"Uh, hey boss," Ernie interjected. No luck. "BOSS! WE GOT TROUBLE!"

The two verbal warriors turned to Ernie with expressions of surprise. He continued, "Bill said that some weirdo is trying to track us down. Kevin and Jim were doing another heist when some wannabe superhero in tights attacked them and tried to get information."

The boss furrowed his brow. "Really? And what did this weirdo want to know? Was he trying to find the chop-shop?"

"Eh, no. He was looking for some guy named Chuck."

"Hey, that's me!" Chuck exclaimed. He was really sick of arguing with the boss, and he didn't want to become an accessory to some sort of crime, like participating in a carjacking and chop-shop ring.

"So, some fruitcake in tight? Who is he, your boyfriend?" the boss asked.

"Uh, no. I don't know about any tights, but I came to town with my friend. He has a really low alcohol tolerance, despite being a Greek. So we've been working on turning him into a better drunk, but that hasn't been working out very well." Chuck was getting nervous, as evidenced by his babbling. He just hoped Bryce was alright. And that he was going to get him out of this mess.

"Doesn't matter, he shouldn't be any trouble," the boss grunted.

* * *

Taking out the two guards was actually pretty easy. Bryce took their keys and weapons before sneaking over to a window. He looked in and saw cars getting dismembered for parts. Further surveillance revealed an office toward the back.

The rookie agent made his way around the building and spotted the window to the office. Using his gymnastics skills and beginning parkour lessons, he was able to make his way to the window and peek in. _Awesome, there's Chuck. He doesn't seem to be tied up or forcibly held captive, so that might make things easier. Hold on, should I call in backup?_

He thought back to his training, and decided that he should get the local law enforcement involved. Not only could the chop-shop be put out of business, but he might also get some sort of commendation for having a hand in shutting the place down. That would really get him noticed by the higher-ups.

* * *

"Boss, it's the cops!" Ernie ran in with the warning. Well, it wasn't much of a warning since they were already there. "We're surrounded. What do we do?"

The man in question turned to Chuck with fury and murder in his eyes. "Is this your doing? Are you wired? Do you have a chip? How did you tip them off?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. First of all, you kidnapped me. I never said I wanted to work for you in this little enterprise of yours, which is in fact illegal. Nor, have I had the time to tell anyone where I am since I've spent the whole time here arguing with you. So no, I did nothing to tip anyone off." Chuck was feeling all sorts of nervous and indignant. He was supposed to be having fun with his best friend before getting into the dangerous world of spycraft, not getting into the dangerous world of biker gangs and illegal carjacking rings while on vacation.

"Well," the boss quietly intoned, "I guess it doesn't matter, anyway." He pulled a gun out and pointed it at Chuck. "If I'm going to go down, I'm going to eliminate the pest who made my last few hours of freedom torture."

Before he could pull the trigger, the glass in the window shattered and Bryce leapt into the room. He executed a flawless somersault through the window and landed perfectly with his gun pointed at the boss. Shards of glass rained around him, creating a dazzling and heroic effect on the up and coming spy. However, the overall effect was dampened by the fact that he was wearing orange slippers, pink tights, booty shorts, and a belly shirt.

Stunned silence reigned for a couple of moments before the boss, Ernie, and Chuck burst into laughter. The boss was doubled over, holding on to his belly from the uncontrollable laughter. Ernie was leaning against a wall and pointing at the spy. Chuck _(traitor)_ had fallen to the ground and was rolling around guffawing.

Bryce was seriously miffed. _I've single-handedly brought down their organization, busted in spectacularly with a gun, and they're laughing at me? Where's the friggin respect?_ He glanced down at himself. _Oh. _

Between chortles, the boss asked, "Are you really the guy who ratted out to the police? I can't believe it. What the hell are you wearing?"

"Shut up," Bryce ground out. "The police are busting in right now and you're going to jail. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing."

"Aw man," the boss continued, "I'm going to get arrested by some fairy schmuck who thinks he's badass."

"Bryce," Chuck gasped out with difficulty, "don't you have some sort of Flashdance audition to get to? I mean, with people of your caliber and fashion sense, you really can succeed."

"DAMMIT! I'VE GOT A GUN, I'VE BUSTED YOU, AND YOU BETTER RESPECT ME BEFORE I KICK YOUR ASSES!" the eccentrically clothed spy burst out.

The boss chuckled out, "I'd like to see you try, pansy."

"RAAUGH!" he yelled out as he jumped at the boss and Ernie.

* * *

"You know, it really wasn't that bad. I mean, not everyone was full-out laughing, per se. Some of them were just giggling. And hey, you busted a carjacking ring that the police have been after for some time now. And you definitely delivered on that promised ass kicking." Chuck was trying to console his friend, who kept staring ahead and fuming.

This time, Chuck was driving. Bryce was complimented by the police chief and the bosses back at Langley, after the sniggers died down. And, Bryce was wearing his own clothes.

"You were rolling around on the floor," Bryce said.

"I was caught by surprise."

"Laughing your ass off," Bryce continued.

"I would never have expected to see you in that sort of getup."

"I was trying to make an impression."

"You did make an impression. Maybe not the impression that you were looking for, but it was still a very memorable impression." Chuck sighed at his friend's mood. "I'm sorry for that, but it was a very stressful and dangerous moment, and I'm glad that you saved me. Oh, we're here."

Like any other sensible citizen, Chuck put on his blinker, and turned into the parking lot of the motel they were staying at. He looked over at Bryce, who seemed to be letting some of his tension go.

"Hey Bryce, how about this." Chuck parked and got out of the car. "Why don't we drink here in the safety of our motel room? That should cut down on the chances of something bad happening."


	4. Motel Mayhem

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck or Bryce. They belong to NBC._

_A/N: I have no idea where these two clown are going. And I'm not going to bother trying to write accents, just imaging them yourself. As for Jill, I don't remember what her exact job was, so I'm just going to say something with pharmaceuticals._

Chapter 4: Motel Mayhem

_Ah, crap. Not again. Where do my clothes keep going? Wait a minute, am I actually naked?_ Bryce pushed his consciousness further to assess his situation. He was lying face down and spread eagle on a hard, damp surface. Further analysis revealed that he was in a bathtub. There was a towel draped over his naked body. Each limb rested on a corner of the tub, while his face was smashed into the side. He was very uncomfortable.

The rookie spy turned around so that he was on his back. The crick in his neck did nothing to ease what felt like a couple of elephants standing on his head. Gingerly, he brought himself to a sitting position.

_Well, at least I'm not outside. And if I remember correctly, we are in a no-name town with one general store in the middle of nowhere. And no biker gangs. Or other related monstrous sluts, to the best of my knowledge. What trouble could we possibly have gotten into last night?_

Bryce stood up with great effort, and proceeded to fall over the tub and flat on his face. He practiced some creative cursing at that development, wrapped the towel around himself, wiped the blood from his nose, and stumbled into the room he was sharing with Chuck.

Bleary observation of said room showed that Chuck was nowhere in sight. _Wonder where he is? Oh, well. Not much he can do here. He's probably getting ice, or something._

XXXX

Chuck was in trouble. First off, he was tied down spread eagle on his back on a bed. Second, he was blindfolded. Third, he had some sort of ball gag in his mouth. And fourth, he was naked.

"Well, Mr. Bartowski. I hear that you're a good boy. Very straight laced. A boy scout. Am I right?"

Chuck heard some woman with a Russian accent. He wasn't too sure what she was talking about, so he replied, "Mmphh mmm?"

Hannah Steward walked ominously around her mark wearing a skimpy dominatrix outfit. She had a switch in her hand that she whacked in her palm. Chuck was getting nervous.

"With me, you're going to find that I am not so good." She got very close and hovered over his face. "I am actually, quite naughty. And rest assured, I am going to break you. I am going to besmirch your body and spirit with sinful and horrible delight so that you can understand the filth that will ruin you."

Chuck had no idea what to make of that.

Hannah paused so that she could have an aside. "Before we begin, is there a specific accent you prefer? I do Russian, French, English, and Vietnamese really well. I could also do Southern or Jersey, but those come off kind of hokey. But I really need to work on them, so I would like the feedback so that I know what I need to practice."

"Rah, mmph mm mph mmpph," was the nerd's reply.

"Okay, Russian it is. Thanks." She slipped back into character. "Now, to the first part of your most exquisite torture. I am going to get some ice so that I can bring you to the heights of sensuality, so sit tight and I'll be right back."

Hannah grabbed a coat and ran out to get some ice. She wanted to apply the ice-ball trick that she learned on the website that she goes to for inspiration. Chuck still had no idea what to make of the situation, so he just struggled against his bonds.

XXXX

Jill was furious. After struggling to listen to what her Fulcrum compatriot was going to do, she was filled with burning jealousy. _They made me give him up so that someone else could sleep with him? Hell no, screw orders. He's mine._

She hid behind a staircase and waited for Hannah to exit the room. She followed the seductress to the dingy ice and vending machine room and made her move. Jill snuck up on her competition and jammed her taser into Hannah's neck. The agent let out a shriek, jerked around for a quick moment, and fell to the floor unconscious.

Jill frisked Hannah for her room key and removed the tasteful coat the spy had thrown on over her dominatrix outfit. Skipping back to the room, Jill entered and took in the sight of her naked ex-boyfriend and the situation he was in. She stripped off her clothes and adopted the best Russian accent she could muster, which sounded a bit more like a freak German-Italian hybrid.

"Well, Mr. Bartowski, I am back. And I am going to sex you up before anyone else does."

"Hrmm hmm?" Chuck could swear that the lady sounded different.

XXXX

Bryce shuffled off to find Chuck. He blearily made his way to the ice and vending machine room in his underwear to see if his friend was there. However, he failed to notice the stirring Fulcrum dominatrix on the floor. Spy training taught him to always to be alert in every situation, and that lapse in judgment resulted in said rookie agent tripping over and smashing his face into the side of a vending machine.

"Ow! Son of a bitch, not again. That's twice this morning, damn." Bryce was, understandably, in a bad mood. He was hung over, his friend was missing again, and he keeps getting beat up by the most inanimate of objects before 10 AM. This was not shaping up to be a good day.

He gingerly touched his nose, which had started bleeding again. He then turned around to see what he had tripped over, only to be met with the vision of a beautiful Amazon in small black leather.

Despite the situation, he once again tried to be suave and charming. I mean, he's always been that type of guy, but he has to really step up his game now that he's a spy. So far, he gets an A for effort, if not for execution. "So-"

"Did you knock me out? Did you tase me?"

"What? I just got here. You're the one who tripped me. But, I think I can do something about teasing-"

Getting fed up with the idiot college kid on the floor, Hannah kicked Bryce in the face. His head snapped back and hit the vending machine, rendering him unconscious. The peeved Fulcrum agent bolted back to her room, to make sure her mark was alright. And to get some loving. He looked damn delicious when she left him.

XXXX

"Whoa, wow. Oh, wow," Chuck panted. His captor had removed the ball gag so that his mouth could be free. He felt her collapse on top of him, breathing rather heavy herself. They were both silent for the moment, just reveling in the post-coital glow. After a few moments, Chuck began thinking about the experience and started to make connections.

"I'm not sure if this is an appropriate topic right now," Chuck timidly began, "but you kind of remind me of someone."

Jill panicked. Even though she defied orders to be there, she still didn't want to get caught. She started to realize that she had been acting impulsively, and that could get her in trouble. In addition, there was still the agent that she had tased. Jill was a scientist, not a fighter. She had no doubt that the dominatrix could kick her ass.

Loud banging and shouting on the door snapped Jill out of her thoughts. She got off of Chuck, grabbed her clothes, and slipped into the bathroom. At that moment, Hannah burst into the room. One look at the sweaty, sated, and confused mark told her all she needed to know. She took a knife out that was skillfully hidden on her person, and started checking the room out. The bathroom door was locked, so she kicked it open. Nobody was in there, but the further inspection revealed the window had been kicked out.

XXXX

Bryce was staggering around the back of the motel, trying to make his way to his room. He was minding his own sorry business when something landed on top of him, knocking his head on the ground and knocking him out. Jill barely gave him a second look before she dashed off to her car, pulling her clothes on along the way.

XXXX

"How was that for you?" Hannah purred. She and Chuck had finished up whatever naughty actions she had cooked up, and she was now trying to see if she had broken him as she was ordered.

"It was incredible, but also really awkward and painful," Chuck gasped. He was trying to make heads of what was happening, but he kept getting distracted by the kinky sex.

"I know that you're a very good boy, so how do you now feel after being violated and corrupted?" She was trying to get the response she needed for a successful mission. Commander Aurella didn't like failure.

"Well," Chuck began unsurely, "I have no idea who you are. You, I mean, I'm not trying to imply anything, but, uh, you don't have any, you know, diseases? I mean, I just want us to be both safe. And I'm really glad that we used protection, it's good to be safe. That was very courteous of you, since I was not in much of a position to do anything about that."

As Chuck babbled, Hannah assessed his response. _Chuck doesn't seem to be having the reaction Commander Aurella was expecting. Well, that's not too hard since he's an idiot. But the commander is not going to like that. I guess I can just tell him that it was mostly a success, but I'm going to need more time, supplies, and partners to fully complete the job. Stephanie and Susan have been bitching about the usual marks they have to sleep with, so I think they'll like this guy._

Making up her mind, Hannah undid Chuck's bonds, kissed him on the cheek, and left. He didn't get a good glimpse of her, and was left wondering what had happened.

XXXX

"I mean, I have no idea what that was all about! What is it about me that got these women to do such things to me?" Chuck was babbling excitedly and curiously about his experiences. Bryce pouted.

"I don't know Chuck, at least you had a good morning. Bastard." Bryce was definitely not feeling for Chuck. He had a bandage on his nose, his face was turning blue and purple, and there was a bump on the back of the head.

Chuck looked at his friend and smiled sheepishly while he navigated through the city they had just arrived in. Bryce's tolerance for alcohol had not been increased very well, so it was probably time to put some structure to that mission.

"How about this: we make a chart of alcohol consumption and physical effects. After every drink, you rate how you feel. When you are tipsy, we stop. Let's focus on not getting you drunk, but finding your alcohol limits. And we put a definite cap on how much you drink. That way, we can have better control over the situation? It beats getting blotto, hung over, and beat up."

Bryce grunted. "I guess that could work. Let's go into that bar over there and get started." He was pointing at nice looking club on the other side of the street.

As per proper traffic rules, Chuck stopped at the stoplight, did a u-turn when it turned green, put on his blinker, and turned into the parking lot with little fuss or dramatics.

Bryce glared. "Dude, you're supposed to jerk the wheel all the way to the left while accelerating, cut across the median, power slide into the lot, and then pull a 360 into parking spot."

"I'm not a spy, and you're not officially a spy yet. So let's have some controlled fun."


	5. Bazooka Barbie and Friends

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck or Bryce. Or the Perils of Pauline_

_A/N: I was writing this chapter, but I didn't really like it. So I deleted most of it and started something different. It had a lot to do with the ballcock of a toilet, but I didn't really think I could put that much "13-year-old-boy" humor into one chapter. So now we have whatever this is. I don't beta or read over this before I post, so keep that in mind. And don't forget to review. No offense to golf._

Chapter 5: Bazooka Barbie and Friends

"Dammit!" Bryce shouted when he fell off the bed and onto the floor. He was tangled up in the sheets, but otherwise naked. Again. He groped around for some boxers and put them on.

There was a stirring on the other bed, which hung over observation revealed to be Chuck. Unlike Bryce, he was wearing the same clothes as last night. The fact that Bryce actually knew where Chuck was first thing in the morning felt incredible.

"Hey, Chuck. You know, I don't feel as hung over as I usually do. I think our little experiment worked."

Chuck rolled over and responded, "Good, I guess. Now let me get back to sleep."

Ignoring his friend's grumpy attitude, Bryce continued on. "Seriously, this is a lot different from all the other vacation days. My pounding headache is at a seven instead of a twelve, I know where you are, and I'm in a bed! You know what, I think today's going to be pretty good."

The Powers That Be said, "Oh yeah? Take this, bitch."

* * *

The diner breakfast that the wrinkled waitress set in front of our heroes-in-training was greasy, artery clogging, and made of all sorts of food-like substitutes. The coffee that Bryce sipped tasted grungy and watered down. Chuck dug into his breakfast, caring little for what it actually was.

"Hey, Chuck. I know we decided to just let the road take us to wherever it wanted us to go and yadda yadda, but I think we should have a definite destination in mind. It could make things more predictable." Bryce grimaced at the images of the trip so far rose in his head.

Chuck paused and looked thoughtful. He was very good at that. "I think you're right. We keep getting into random trouble that might be diverted if we did a little planning. I mean, our major goal was to get drunk and have a good time. But I'm remembering more of the traumatic stuff than the awesome stuff."

Bryce scowled at his friend. "Traumatic? You? Need I remind you of the pain and humiliation I was being put through while you got your ass whipped and laid?"

"Hey! I've had to suffer some indignity, too! Remember Ja-"

"THAT NEVER HAPPENED!"

Bryce's wild-eyed outburst surprised and kind of scared Chuck flush against the back of his seat. "Okay," he said slowly and calmly, "we both have had some ups and downs, so we should focus on getting more ups."

Satisfied Chuck was not going to bring up the unspeakable episode again, Bryce prompted him further. "What do you have in mind?"

Before Chuck can reveal his plan, a ruckus by the counter caught everyone's attention. A woman was leaning over the counter, holding a cashier up by the lapels of his collar, and shouting. What really caught everyone's eyes was the schoolgirl miniskirt she was wearing. And a giant golf bag was strapped to her back.

"If you really want me to pay, you're going to need to put some effort into it! So I'm going to wait right here for a few more minutes and you can either force payment out of me, or I'm leaving." With that, she let the cashier go and grumped away. She noticed everyone's stares right before they quickly went back to minding their own business. Not wanting to get bored, she continued, "Alright, who here wants to show a lady a good time?"

"Ooh, ooh!" Bryce was waving his hand around looking like an overeager school kid who knew the answer. With a smirk, the woman walked over and gestured Bryce to get into the same side of the booth as Chuck. With that done, she slid into the seat across from the duo.

"So, what're your names?" she asked.

Finally getting the chance to really put the suave on, Bryce smarmed, "I'm Bryce, and this is my friend, Chuck. We couldn't help but notice that you were having a little trouble over there." At the blonde's encouraging smile, Bryce was feeling his confidence bubble over. _Finally, I'm going to get some from someone hot and worthy of a spy like me._

Chuck was taking a different track on their meeting and wanted to go for more general conversation. Noticing Bryce's more licentious intentions, he decided to go the more platonic route. A good icebreaker that he noticed was her golf bag. Pretending to be interested in the sport, he excitedly asked, "I take it you play golf?"

"Golf?" The bewildered expression on her face indicated a lack of familiarity with the subject. She looked at her bag and made a face. "Why the hell would I bother with that fuddy-duddy old people sport?"

Bryce was annoyed at his friend cramping his style, and Chuck looked embarrassed. The nerd tried to apologized when he said, "I'm sorry, I kind of assumed that since you have a golf bag that-"

"I don't like to golf," she cut off. "What I like to do," she reached into the bag, whipped out a bazooka, and pointed it at the guys, "is blow shit up!"

* * *

Jill was conflicted. She was driving to the nearest Fulcrum outpost, but she would then turn the car around to get back to Chuck. The mileage she was racking up was rather impressive. Finally, she pulled over to the shoulder on the highway so that she could think.

_Dammit. Why did I have to break up with him? I could have done a much better job turning Chuck to Fulcrum if we had stayed together rather than them sending agents over to screw him onto our side. And that's my man they're touching. Maybe if I talk to Commander Aurella and-_

Jill never got the chance to finish her thought when an explosion and fireball came off from a distance. Realizing that Chuck was over in that general direction, she decided that was a good enough reason to go after him.

* * *

"WOOHOO! And that's why they call me Bazooka Barbie!" With finesse and speed, she loaded up another round and shot at another tanker truck. Another explosion rocked the area as flaming debris rained down around the already smoldering wreckage of the diner.

Chuck was helping people to evacuate the area while Bryce assessed the situation to see if there was a weapon around. Not seeing any, and realizing that he had left his gun at the motel, he whipped out his phone to call reinforcements. A shuriken to the phone and kick to the face ensured that Bryce wouldn't make that call.

Bazooka Barbie turned around and greeted the newcomer. "Hey, I see you've met my friend, Ninja Jane!" The aforementioned ninja assumed a fighting stance while Bryce did the same. He had not seen her coming, and once again cursed his lack of situational awareness. _I'm supposed to be on my way to becoming the best agent in the agency. I've got stop getting into these situations._ Ninja Jane assumed the offensive and let loose a flurry of punches and kicks that Bryce was hard-pressed to block.

Chuck came running up with an expression of horror on his face. "What are you doing? Why are you blowing stuff up? Why are you fighting? What's wrong with you people?"

Bazooka Barbie whipped out a gun and pointed it at Chuck. "Hands behind your back." Chuck was freaking out, but he did as he was ordered to do. She put handcuffs on him and walked him over to her motorcycle. He was too afraid to struggle, but he still babbled in confusion and fear. She threw him over the bike, got on, smacked his butt, and started off.

"Chuck!" Bryce yelled. He tried to break from the fight with Ninja Jane, but she hooked her foot behind his knee and caused him to fall on his face. Bryce rolled out of the way of her knee drop and aimed a kick at her head. She leaned away and threw a flash bomb on the ground. The rookie spy was temporarily blinded and disoriented. When he finally opened his eyes, he could not see Ninja Jane, Bazooka Barbie, or Chuck around. Worry and fear seeped into his chest as he realized he had just lost his friend, _again._ "Dammit."

* * *

"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?!" Chuck was having a hard time quelling his panic. He was situated uncomfortably on top of the motorcycle's gas tank with his legs dangling off one side, while he was staring down at the quickly moving ground on the other side. Fear of falling off and losing face or limbs to the road kept him from struggling.

Bazooka Barbie smirked and patted Chuck on his butt and thighs reassuringly. She snuck in a couple of pinches and gropes here and there. "I said I wanted to have a good time, so we're going to have a good time. I'm just going to show you what that is. And my friends are meeting at a bar down over here. Do you mind spreading your legs a bit?"

"No! I'm hanging precariously on a motorcycle and I don't appreciate getting molested."

"You're a guy, you're not supposed to mind. Oh, we're here!" She swung the motorcycle into a parking lot and parked in front of a decrepit bar. "Hey, Tequila Lila! Come on out here and check out this sweet piece of ass I reeled in."

Chuck struggled to get into an upright position now that he was on unmoving ground. He felt hands grab him and throw him to the ground on his back. Our nerd prides himself on being a gentleman respectful of women, but he was hard pressed not to notice the view he had up two short skirts.

The one he figured to be Tequila Lila bent down and levered him to an upright position. "Nice, Babs. Why don't we get started then?" At this, she roughly yanked his head back by his hair. His squawk of pain and surprise allowed his mouth to open enough for a bottle of alcohol to get jabbed down his throat.

* * *

Bryce was driving like a madman. Well, he usually did, but this time was even madder. _Stupid Chuck. He really needs to learn how to fight. Maybe they could send him to boot camp or something. Because all he needs now is to be tied to some train tracks to be a regular damsel in distress. We're supposed to be on vacation, not reenacting the Perils of Pauline._

Bryce's musings were disrupted by the grill of some gargantuan car in his rearview mirror. He sped up to avoid the humvee trying to ram him from behind. The military car sped up and tried to run him off the road. Our intrepid hero swerved and veered across the road, trying to keep his tiny car from getting flattened by the bigger vehicle. Despite his best efforts, a massive charge from the humvee finally overcame Bryce and flipped his vehicle off the road.

Bryce screamed and braced himself as he rolled roof over wheels down a small ditch. Finally coming to a stop, he groaned and looked around. He did not seem to have any major injuries, so he climbed out of the car.

In front of him was a bar, with the humvee parked in front of it. "Aw, crap," Bryce muttered. He stumbled as stealthily as he could to the building before a familiar ninja appeared beside him and knocked him out.

* * *

Slowly, Bryce was coming to. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was glad it wasn't from a hangover. He opened his eyes and noticed that he was tied to a chair. Looking over, Chuck was in a similar predicament.

"Hey, my man. Sorry, I was forced to get started early on the whole drinking thing. By that one over there." Chuck's slightly slurred speech told Bryce that his friend was more than tipsy, but not full-on drunk. He looked where Chuck had gestured with his head and saw another lovely lady of mayhem. "That's Tequila Lila."

"Hey," Bryce responded. He looked around for a way out.

Bazooka Barbie noticed this and said, "Uh-uh, no trying to escape. We're going to have fun. And let me introduce you to someone you may have already met on the road, Grand Theft Gina."

A perky redhead flounced up and stood in front of Bryce. "Hey, there! I had a ton of fun on the road chasing you around. How about you?"

She was greeted with an incredulous look. "Fun? You ran me off the road and flipped my car over! I could have died!"

Grand Theft Gina was looking way too smug. "But you didn't. That's the important part, right? Besides, you're here now, so we can party. Now we're just waiting for-"

At that, the door opened and the most beautiful woman in the world walked in. The dingy bar and all the other girls faded away in the brilliance of her presence. Chuck and Bryce stared in open mouthed amazement at the goddess of beauty before them. They shifted in their seats to adjust the tightening of their pants.

"Where've you been? We were waiting on you," Bazooka Barbie yelled. The goddess strutted to the bound boys, and sexily pulled a stool over with her foot. She slowly and seductively sat down in it, almost giving our boys the most amazing and tantalizing view in the world. They were still drooling.

"Hey," she purred. "It seems that you two are eager to get started. Just call me Venereal Val."

Hearing her name snapped Chuck out of his lust induced trance. "Venereal Val? May I ask why you have that name?"

"Maybe you can find out for yourself?" Venereal Val opened her legs up about half an inch. Bryce leaned forward and increased his drool production. Chuck wasn't the horn dog Bryce was, so he was able to keep himself in better check.

"Um, I'd rather not." Chuck looked over at his friend, concerned for his wellbeing. "And I think I speak for the both of us when I say that we probably have different ideas of fun than the rest of you."

"I want to find out. Oh boy I want to find out," Bryce gasped out. His suave spy demeanor was gone, replaced by a goofy and drooling idiot. Chuck had a feeling that things might not turn out very well for his friend if he wanted to partake in the pleasures of Venereal Val. And he was supposed to be Bryce's wingman, so it was his duty to protect him from potentially devastating lays.

"There are about thirty seven things you can get from sleeping with me. Now you just have to wonder," Val leaned forward to enhance her amazing cleavage, "is it worth the risk?

Tequila Lila plopped herself onto Chuck's lap, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and took a swig of her namesake drink. She whispered to him, "You know, she's got this amazingly rare disease that can cause penises to fall off. Just something to think about." Chuck's eyes widened in horror. Bryce was struggling at his bonds, trying to get to Val.

Venereal Val trained her predatory gaze on chuck. She gracefully stood up, and strutted to him. "Well, how about it?" She pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, and he had to struggle from closing his eyes and shivering in pleasure. He was glad to have a little control over himself.

"ME, ME! I want to sex you up! Please! Let me! Let me! I'm willing to risk getting a disease or having my penis to fall off. It would be so worth it to have just one night with you!" Bryce was reduced to begging.

Venereal Val glanced at the spy-in-training and said, "Nah, too easy. I enjoy a challenge."

Chuck, fearing for Bryce's manhood, asked Tequila Lila, "Please, you've got to help me save my friend. I need to keep him from making a horrible mistake."

She thought it over a moment before nodding. She replied, "Alright, I'll help protect his junk. But only if you sleep with me later on. And maybe Bazooka Barbie since she seems taken by you."

Chuck took a few moments to consider before he nodded his assent. "Great," she crowed. "But first, we all need drinks."


	6. The Diabolical Contraption

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck or Bryce. They belong to NBC._

_Now get ready for another round of humiliation for our heroes._

Chapter 6: The Diabolical Contraption

_Ugh, maybe I should try not drinking one night to remember what it's like to not wake up with a hangover. And I'm naked, again. Wait a minute, am I actually naked? Am I wearing something?_ Bryce tried to open his eyes and look down, but couldn't. He felt like he was getting squished from above and below in some dark space. He tried to contemplate where he was through the discomfort of his aching head.

_Dammit, where am I again? I think, I think I'm under a bed._ With this deduction, our not so intrepid hero went to work scurrying out from underneath the bed. With some cursing, scrapes, and rug burn in uncomfortable places, he achieved freedom. As he lay panting face down on the grungy, he slowly came to the realization that something was _very_ wrong. Getting himself up on his knees, he looked down, and screamed like a little girl.

XXXX

He was hung over and naked. Good thing was, he was in a bed. Chuck slowly opened his eyes and decided that moving around at the moment was not a good idea. _That was a very weird day. I hope Bryce is alright. Huh, I remember that I wanted to protect him from making a mistake, but I don't remember what I did. Tequila Lila said that she'd do something about it if I slept with her. Man, I am sore. And I feel kind of dirty. I never knew I was that flexible. _

Chuck rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. After a long shower, he strolled out feeling a lot fresher. A blood curdling scream from somewhere broke him from his reverie. While he was wondering if someone had been murdered, a frantic pounding was happening at his door with his name being called out. Opening the door revealed a frightened and hysterical Bryce Larkin, soon to be super spy extraordinaire, wearing a fluffy white robe.

"CHUCK! Oh my God, you've got to help me. I don't know what to do. I don't know what happened. You've got to help me. You're my best friend. WHY AREN'T YOU HELPING ME!" Bryce was grabbing at Chuck's lapels, babbling like he was having some sort of nervous breakdown.

"Hold on, Bryce. What's going on? What happened?"

"What's going on? THIS IS WHAT'S GOING ON!" Bryce flung off his robe and Chuck quickly looked away so that he couldn't get a good glimpse of anything he didn't want to see. "Chuck, look! Look at it!"

"No! I don't want to see your seeping gonorrhea!"

"It's not seeping gonorrhea. It's worse. Chuck, how can you help if you're not looking?"

"Can you just describe it to me? I'm not comfortable looking at your junk, Bryce." Indeed, Chuck thought that the situation was very uncomfortable. Bryce thought it was uncomfortable in a different way.

"Chuck, you're my best friend in the world. Please?" Bryce's voice had gone up into a high pitched whine that was out of place with his normal machoness. Deciding to get it over with, Chuck took a peak at his friend's problem.

"Holy crap, what the hell is that thing?" Chuck was now staring in wide-eyed astonishment. "Is that, is that a, a um, a chastity belt?" The nerd realized that he was staring at another guy's package, even though it was encased in a studded metal bikini, and quickly looked away.

Bryce was on the verge of tears. He was sniffling and wringing his hands. He was hoping that his best friend, the smartest guy in the world, could get the chastity belt off of him. "Do you have an idea on how to get it off." His voice cracked at the end.

"Um," Chuck replied intelligently, "do you see a lock anywhere? Any way that you can unfasten it?"

"I don't know, I can't see all of it too well. And I'm not too sure what I'm doing. Can you see anything?"

"Er, I don't know. This seems like a sort of, um, personal thing." Chuck was still feeling awkward. Embarrassed, too.

"Chuck, friend," a loud sniffle, "please, HELP ME!" At that, Bryce wailed, got on his knees, threw his arms around Chuck's waist, and began sobbing into him. Chuck was at a complete loss on what to do since Bryce had his face buried uncomfortably close to Chuck's crotch, was sobbing hysterically, and practically naked. He was wondering if he should pat him on the shoulder, comfort him, push him away, or what.

There was a knock on the door, a muffled "Housekeeping," and the door opened. The maid took a step into the room, surveyed the scene, and quickly stepped out. A muffled apology was heard through the door.

"It's not what you think!" Chuck called out. He didn't have a lot of time to think about that random occurrence before his attention was brought back to Bryce. "Can you give me some space, man? I'm feeling really uncomfortable here."

Bryce sprung to his feet with tears and indignation. "Uncomfortable? You're uncomfortable? What about me? At least your junk can swing free. Look at mine! It's imprisoned and chafing and trapped! My penis is in a metal shaft, there's something locked around my balls, and there's some sort of metal strap going up my butt! And you're uncomfortable? Can you be any more insensitive?"

Chuck was at a loss. On the one hand, he wanted to help his friend. On the other hand, he wanted him to put some damn clothes on first. "Maybe, um, do you have any sort of tool that can help? Like a screwdriver? Wait a minute, have you really examined it yet? Have you found a lock, or keyhole, or anything?" Bryce was Chuck's best friend, but there were some lines that he did not want to cross. Our nerd wasn't too sure where that line was, but he wanted to err on the side of caution. And the situation was strange and unnerving enough as is.

Bryce got a hold of himself enough to begin a more thorough examination of his chastity belt. Chuck went over to ruffle through his bag in an attempt to look busy and not look at Bryce. "Oh, I think there might be something here, Chuck."

"Where exactly?"

"Um, right next to this doohickey above my crack, I think."

In his mind, Chuck tried to remove himself from any homoerotic undertones this situation might present. He turned around, walked over to Bryce, and looked at the area he was trying to look at. "Hm, that is a really weird locking mechanism. I would guess it would need to have some sort of specialized key to open it. Maybe one of the girls from yesterday would have it."

Bryce glared at Chuck. "How would you know one of them did this to me?"

Chuck looked away from Bryce so that he would not see the guilt on his face. "Well, it seems like something they would do. You know, if we can't find them, maybe we should go see a locksmith so-"

"What? I am not going to a locksmith to remove this stupid chastity belt. I don't need anyone else knowing about this problem."

"Maybe we can get the CIA to-"

"Didn't you just hear me? This is humiliating enough as it is. I don't need the frickin' CIA to know about this."

Chuck huffed in exasperation. "Well, okay. How about we find some bolt cutters-"

"That won't work. It's too tight. You won't be able to slip bolt cutters between my skin and the belt. And more importantly, I DO NOT WANT FRAKKIN' BOLT CUTTERS NEAR MY JUNK!"

"Alright, maybe if we-"

"Do you realize how much this sucks? Bolt cutters? Next you're going to be suggesting that I get someone to weld it off or torch it or something?"

"Bryce, can you please just-"

"Dammit, Chuck. Can you please just be a bit more sensitive and thoughtful about my catastrophe?"

Chuck just glared at Bryce. He was tired of not getting to finish his sentences.

"Great," Bryce continued, "I guess we do have to find them. Chuck, do you know what you're going to have to do?" Chuck shook his head. "You're going to have to seduce them."

"What? Why me?"

"What? Why? Holy crap, Chuck. In case you haven't noticed, I am in no condition to seduce anyone. Since you have the liberated genitals, you're going to have to use them."

"Yeah, but why do I have to seduce them? Can't we just ask?"

Bryce gave Chuck a look of complete incomprehension. "Dude, you're a spy. You're supposed to sleep with people to get information. You're hot, and you have to do it. So that I can hopefully do it too. Unless you want to torture them..."

"No, no, no. There is going to be no torturing on this vacation."

"But they tortured me!"

Chuck was getting really tired of this conversation. They needed to find the girls so that Bryce can stop acting like a whiny bitch. "Listen, let's just go find them and see what happens from there. But first, you need to get dressed. I do not want to have a constant view of your junk."

"Since when did you become an insensitive jerk? My boys are trapped in an iron maiden, and you're more concerned about looking at me?" Bryce pouted.

XXXX

Bryce was tearing down the road like a madman. Or he was tearing down the road as much as he could with a car that had definitely seen better days. They were fortunate to have adversaries that left quite a wake of destruction to follow.

They eventually came upon a nightclub that looked to be under evacuation. The most likely reason was that a humvee was crashed into the front and Bazooka Barbie was lighting fireworks from the roof of the building.

Despite the near-wrecked condition of the car, Bryce was able to execute quite an impressive maneuver spinning them around the humvee and into the space on the other side of the vehicle. "Hah, nailed it!"Bryce crowed in triumph. Chuck needed a few moments to ease the death grip he had on the dash.

As they got out of the car, Bryce narrowly missed a flying kick from Ninja Jane and managed to flip her over and into the car. While she was stunned, Bryce ran into the building with Chuck close at his heels.

"Hey guys, didn't you get enough last night?" Tequila Lila was flipping booze bottles with flair from behind the bar. The bartender was tied down on top. "So, how's the protection going?" she directed at Chuck. He was making shushing gestures behind Bryce's back.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't need this type of protection. Please, get it off of me!" Bryce was hoping to sound commanding and forceful, but he came off whiny and begging. He was embarrassed that he was now trying to force back tears.

"I take it you want this key?" Bryce and Chuck turned around to see Venereal Val sitting on a stool looking like a pinup. She was holding on odd looking key that might possibly fit into the chastity belt's lock.

"YES!" Bryce's glee was barely constrained at the sight of freedom.

"Well then," Venereal Val smirked, "you're going to have to come get it." At this pronouncement, she lowered the key and put it...holy crap.

"Sure thing! I'm glad to get it." Bryce was eager to get the key, especially from where Venereal Val put it. He started walking over there when she held her hand up to stop him. Ninja Jane leapt in front of him and Bazooka Barbie pointed a Magnum at his head.

"I think Chuck's going to have to get it, isn't that right, Val?" Bazooka Barbie asked. She was met with a coy nod. Chuck looked shocked and nervous.

"You know, this doesn't really seem like something to be done in front of a bunch of people in the middle of the day."

"Chuck!" Bryce shouted. "You have to get it! For the sake of my manhood! Please, you're my only hope. They haven't said anything about you having sex with them, so you can get it."

"But, I don't feel right grabbing it out of-"

"Holy fuck, Chuck. Stop being such a damn priss and get that fuckin' key!"

"In light of these recent events," Bazooka Barbie started, "you don't have to have sex with anyone if you don't want to. However, you do have to be naked."

XXXX

The car was silent. Bryce and Chuck had encountered enough awkward and humiliating situations in the past 24 hours than what spies should be experiencing. Bryce forewent the flashy parking maneuvers and parked in a diner parking lot in a small town near fields of produce.

It was quite late at night, and the two were exhausted. Chuck looked over at Bryce and said, "How about some sodas, dinner, and we just go to sleep?"

Seriously, who thinks that's going to actually happen?


	7. Are Chases Supposed to be at High Speed?

_Disclaimer: Chuck and Bryce belong to NBC._

_A/N: Sorry to all two of my readers for the lack of updates. I have no good excuse. Hopefully, I can placate you by humiliating a couple of soon-to-be spies._

Chapter 7: Are Chases Supposed to be at High Speeds?

The feeling of dirt and various vegetation in certain areas of his anatomy made Bryce realize that he was probably passed out in some field. And of course, he was naked. He gingerly lifted his aching head and blearily looked around. _I thought we weren't going to drink? Why am I hung-over?_

He turned around and saw a large sign say _Fulcrum Winery._ Working through the haze, Bryce formed a coherent thought: _I wonder if that has anything to do with my hangover? And dammit, where's Chuck?_ Grumbling to himself, he stealthily made his way to a building in the distance. And when I say stealthily, I mean he stumbled around banging into poles and tripping over holes the way over.

"BRYCE!"

"GAH!" Bryce jumped at the yell of his name and fell face first into the dirt. He groaned and looked up to see Chuck looming over him. "Chuck, the hell. Where've you been?"

"Where have I been? Where have you been? I spent the butt crack of dawn wandering through grapevine fields trying to find you."

"Oh. Well, to answer your question, I was passed out in a ditch." He gingerly stood up and leaned against the car. Chuck took offense to his state of undress.

"Dammit, Bryce. Why can't you drink and keep your clothes on?" The nerd turned around so that Bryce could find something to wear in his luggage from the trunk of the car.

"Do you honestly think I know what I do when I drink? Now that I think of it, do you know what I do?" Bryce was quickly pulling some clothes on. The sun was quickly coming up, and he did not want to get into trouble again for indecent exposure. Assessing his suitcase, he had an epiphany. Or realization, whatever. "I'm running out of clothes."

"I don't know," Chuck replied. "You tend to randomly disappear. And I'm usually too drunk to care about chasing you down."

"Some wingman you are."

"Some wingman you are, too. Running off and leaving me at the tender mercies of whatever depraved individuals we find company with."

Bryce shook his head before realizing that might hurt. "Ugh, maybe we shouldn't have this conversation now." He took a look around and once again noticed that they were parked in front of a winery. The sound of more alcohol made his stomach churn a bit. "What are we doing here?"

Chuck contemplated the question and the area a moment before not exactly answering his friend. "A winery. With tastings and tours. Since we're here, we might as well. Besides, we don't have to drink too much." A shiver of unease went up both of their spines.

* * *

"Just get it ready, dammit. Start testing now, I don't want to wait any longer for the control serum to work." Commander Aurella's pissed off personage on the vidscreen huffed at the scientists in the lab.

"We are testing now. We're actually going to start today, sir," Lloyd snipped. He took a PDA out of his lab coat pocket and checked his itinerary. "We just need some test subjects. And I'm sure we're going to be getting a lot of those today. Sheila, is everything ready?"

In the back of the room, Sheila was fumbling around with the bottling machine. It kept breaking down, and she was the only technician in the building who might have an idea on how to fix it. Damn the repair guy and his stupid food poisoning!

"I've almost got it, professor. Let me just-"

Another tug of the wrench sheared the bolt, which meant that the machine crashed into the bottles of wine below. She looked forlornly at the mess. "Aw hell."

Lloyd rubbed his temples before turning back to Aurella, who was turning a vivid shade of purple. "We'll have everything going in a jiff. I'm just going to get some more wine from our front."

He cut the feed before Aurella could say anything. He turned around at the mess that Sheila had made and felt his spirit sink. "Oh, well. At least we didn't put the serum in yet." Sheila was struggling to pick up the machine to put it back into place, but her small stature prevented her from doing so. "You know what Sheila? Why don't you go upstairs and get some more bottles. Let me take care of this so that you don't bungle things up anymore."

She glared and huffed at him before flouncing up the stairs. Lloyd's usual ennui settled back in as he took in the damage. _It's going to be one of those days._

* * *

"There are also hot air balloon rides. We could do one of those without drinking anything. And that would still count as having some sort of experience at the winery, right?"

Bryce rolled his eyes at Chuck. "Chuck, I don't want to go on some stupid balloon ride. We're at a winery, so we should be drinking wine. Besides, wine won't get us drunk that quickly."

Chuck paused and thought about that. He was more familiar with drinking alcohol rather than knowing about it. "Is that how it works? Shouldn't we be thinking about the alcohol content of the drink itself, rather than what kind of drink it is?"

"Whatever. Let's just drink and make merry," Bryce responded with cavalier flair. As he imitated the other tourists sipping their wines, he noticed a cutie try to sneak a couple of bottles through a door. Deciding that it was his moral obligation to do something (like try to get laid and drink her stash), he started to follow her.

Right before the door could close, he stuck his foot in and snuck through. He noticed the stairs leading down and decided to see if she was at the bottom. However, he didn't count on finding himself in some sort of underground lab. Before he could think further about the situation, he felt a gun press itself against his temple.

"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?" The woman that he was following was rather sexy holding a gun. Now, if only it wasn't pressed to his head.

Bryce gave a charming smile and raised his hands. "I got lost. And I just wanted to know if you were free this afternoon?"

* * *

Chuck was peeved. Bryce had probably gotten drunk and ran off somewhere naked. He looked around the area and tried to figure out places that Bryce might have disappeared to._ Why is he always doing this? Where could he have gotten to?_

Before Chuck could cogitate further on the dilemma, a boom rattled the building. The other tourists ran out of the building screaming as everything started to shake and fall apart. Chuck yelped and ducked when a door near him was blown off its hinges. Peering around a counter, he looked at the opening and vaguely heard Bryce.

"Buddy, are you down there?" he yelled through the opening.

Faintly, he heard, "I need backup! Call Langley or the authorities or someone and get down here!"

Chuck took out his cell phone and called the police. Another explosion rocked the building as he tried to explain what was happening.

"Chuck! Get down here! I said I need backup!" Bryce yelled from the cellar.

"I'm trying to get backup now! And besides, I don't have any combat training!"

"Just get down here!"

Chuck cursed to himself and picked up a broken bottle. He wasn't too sure about how he would use that in an apparent gun fight. Deciding to trust Bryce's beginner spy skills, Chuck hurriedly made his way down the stairs. Bryce was hunched beside some sort of lab station shooting it out with a couple of people on the other side of the room.

"Get over here and start shooting," Bryce yelled to Chuck.

"With what? I've got a wine bottle."

"I don't know. You're smart, figure something out." Bryce returned fire and the two people he was shooting at ran out through a metal door. "Come on, we've got to follow them!"

Before Chuck could answer, Bryce had vaulted over the station and ran after the two villains. Chuck cursed to himself and grabbed a random case and whatever miscellaneous equipment he could carry. Still continuing his quiet tirade against his idiot friend, Chuck followed him.

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Lloyd yelled in exasperation.

"No, sir. We had to move all vehicles to the east parking lot to comply with fire safety regulations and ease of access protocols. The tunnel we just exited is actually closed for maintenance."

"Great. So how do we get out of here?"

Sheila desperately looked around before she got an idea. A desperate one.

* * *

"They're getting away!" Bryce was pointing at the two Fulcrum agents who were lifting off in a hot air balloon. Chuck passively took things in as he tried to catch his breath.

"Well," Chuck began, "what do you suggest we do?"

"We have to get them."

"Right. Once again, how do we do that." At this point, Chuck was feeling kind of over all the adventures they kept experiencing on their vacation. Thus, he was finding it hard to muster enthusiasm over the escaping villains.

Before Chuck could do anything else, Bryce grabbed him and started pulling him along. "Over there. We're going to chase them." He was leading them to another hot air balloon in the field.

Chuck started to weakly struggle against Bryce's enthusiasm to be a super agent. "Come on Bryce, let's just let more qualified people to take care of it. We've done our part."

"No we haven't." Bryce was looking way too energetic. "We have to fight for our case and ensure our future careers. Apprehending more wrong-doers will look good on our records. Come on."

With that, Bryce pushed Chuck into the basket of the balloon. Chuck grumbled and glared balefully at his stupid and reckless best friend as they figured out how to work the balloon.

Finally, they lifted off. It was kind of slow. They lifted off into the air vaguely in the same direction as the people who were trying to get away. Bryce was extremely energetic about the impromptu mission they were on, but he was finding it hard to keep the enthusiasm going after noticing the slow pace they were going at. Chuck was trying to figure out how to steer the damned thing.

"Bryce, I've never been in a hot air balloon before. Do you know how to steer it?"

"Uh, I don't know. Is there anything around here that looks like a steering mechanism of some sort?"

"No, at least not obviously." Chuck scratched his head and started fiddling around with whatever he could. He wasn't getting any results. Annoyed and fed up, he leaned against the side of the basket, crossed his arms, and deadpanned, "Look, we're gaining on them."

Bryce looked. "You sure? How can you tell?"

* * *

"Dammit, they're gaining on us!"

Sheila looked over at their pursuers. "You sure? How can you tell?"

Disregarding Sheila, he contemplated his next dastardly move. "We've got guns. Let's shoot them out of the air."

"If we start shooting at them, wouldn't they start shooting at us? We would both go down. And I'm not too keen on crashing at this height. Maybe we should keep going and hope that they don't get the idea to shoot at us?"

* * *

"Dude, let's finish these people off. I think we should open fire."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Bryce. Having a firefight in the air in hot air balloons doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Well, what did you bring along? Do we have anything we can use?"

Before Chuck could respond, distant gunfire could be heard. He and Bryce ducked down into the basket to avoid getting shot.

* * *

"Keep firing, Sheila! If we keep them hemmed in and shoot them down first, then they won't have a chance to fight back. Then, we won't crash."

"Sir, please stop narrating and concentrate more on firing."

* * *

"Hurry, Chuck. Evasive maneuvers!"

"Evasive maneuvers? How?" Chuck was understandably freaking out.

"Um," Bryce responded intelligently. He looked around franticly before launching himself at one of the basket walls. He rebounded and plowed into the opposite wall.

"Bryce, what the hell are you doing? You look like an idiot."

"As I said, evasive maneuvers. So you can either flail around like an idiot, or die."

"You know, as far as inspirational speeches go, that both sucked and blew."**(1)**

Bryce continued to try to rock the basket. "Oh yeah? Well, why don't you figure out a plan then. What can you use with all the stuff you got from the lab?"

* * *

"Sir, why don't we just go for the balloon itself? It's a little too hard to try to hit the people in the basket from this distance."

Lloyd let out a huff of frustration. "Okay. I don't think we have much-what is that? Some sort of rocket?"

* * *

Bryce was in a good mood. He and Chuck were driving into the city after an eventful day. "Chuck, my man. Our careers haven't officially started yet, and we're already off to a good start. Langley is wetting itself to get us into the Farm and out in the field."

Chuck sighed. "I know that, but we're supposed to be celebrating the ends of our civilian lives. Do normal stuff that recent college grads do to celebrate the end of school and their entry into the workforce. So far, we've done a whole lot of stuff that ended up in kidnappings, felonies, assorted destruction, and unwanted sexual degradation."

"Yeah. It's been great."

"Oh yeah? Do you remember-"

"Never happened."

"What about the-"

"Shut up."

A nice looking crowd in front of a club caught Bryce's eye. With a smirk, he cut across three lanes, slid the car under a semi-truck, and flung the vehicle backwards into a parking space. Chuck was able to stop screaming after two minutes.

"Come on, Chuck. Let's celebrate."

* * *

**(1)** Rough quote from Metal Gear Prime. Needed to use it.


	8. It's a Convention!

_Disclaimer: Chuck and Bryce belong to NBC._

_A/N: The absurdity and graphicness are all up to your imagination since there is nothing graphic in her. I still think it's a T rating due to the usual shenanigans Bryce and Chuck find themselves in._

Chapter 8: It's a Convention!

What does it say about a man who can tell that he is in a dumpster first thing in the morning without opening his eyes? Well, Bryce is most definitely that man. Unless you count the purse that was wrapped around his shoulder, he was naked. And despite the circumstances he was in, he did not want to open his eyes.

"Bryce, are you here!" The man in question heard his savior/best friend from a ways off and moaned in response. About a minute later, he felt some sort of sheet come out of nowhere and drape itself about him. "I've seen you naked enough times during our time as roommates in college, and I've seen more of you than I wanted on this vacation. Hence, the sheet."

Bryce pulled the sheet around him and oozed his way over to the side of the dumpster where he could peek at Chuck. He found Chuck glaring daggers at him.

"Alright," Bryce rasped, "I'm coming. Help me down." He struggled over the lip of the dumpster and pushed off. Chuck took a step back and let Bryce fall the distance in a heap. "Ow, what the hell was that for? I thought you were going to help me."

"I never said anything." Chuck still looked thoroughly peeved.

"Okay, what did I do this time?" Chuck continued to glare. "That bad, eh?"

"Let's just get to the room. I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. But I kind of need a favor." Chuck was a little glad to see Bryce look sheepish at what he was about to ask. "Can you just give me the key and direct me to the motel room? If I remember correctly, I'm out of clothes. And I just can't go shopping in nothing but a sheet and a thin layer of grime. So I need you to buy my clothes."

* * *

Bryce was looking through the purse he had with him while he waited for Chuck to return with clothes. He was trying to find out who it belonged to when Chuck entered and dropped a bag of assorted vestments on the bed.

"Here. Try not to lose them this time." The nerd looked a little annoyed rather than really annoyed like earlier.

"Hey, Chuck. I think I need to return this purse. There seems to be a lot of stuff this person will miss. And I think she might be hot."

Chuck decided to go along. "How do you plan on doing that? Is there any identifying information in there?"

Bryce fished out a couple of tickets and held them out to Chuck. He had a devious grin on his face. "No, but I we might find her at the place where she has tickets to. It looks like some sort of fan convention called _Leather & Lace_."

"_Leather & Lace_? What kind of convention is that?"

"I don't know, but we're about to find out. Besides, isn't that part of the fun?"

* * *

Bryce and Chuck walked up the steps to a convention hall that had many oddly dressed people coming in and out. The costumes that were worn by the various attendees were extremely skimpy and jiggly.

"Bryce, what are you noticing about these people? I would say that this might be some sort of anime convention, but not quite. I can't really put my finger on it." Chuck had a sinking and familiar feeling in his gut that he was getting used to on this vacation.

"Relax, Chuck. Whatever it is, I'm sure we're going to have fun. And we're going to learn stuff. This is going to be educational." Bryce had given the tickets to the ticket taker and they were ushered into the hall.

The two stopped and took in the sights as they realized the exact nature of the convention. They were too preoccupied to really notice the other signs that could have said what the convention was, but whatever.

"Bryce?" Chuck was flushed scarlet and had a creeping sense of horror and embarrassment.

"Yeah?" Bryce was astonished, slightly embarrassed, and totally intrigued.

"Is this an _adult_ convention?"

"If by _adult_, you mean_ porn,_ then yeah. Most likely."

Chuck was feeling all sorts of mortified and uncomfortable. He was also thinking about what Ellie would say if she found out her baby brother had gone to such an event. Bryce was actually kind of intrigued.

"Bryce, can we please just leave?" Chuck decided he didn't really want to be there.

"I don't know. I still haven't returned the purse-"

"That's a stupid excuse. Let's just go."

"Oh come on, maybe we can look around a bit and-"

"No! I don't want to be at a porn convention, Bryce. This is not my kind of thing."

"Chuck, can't we just-"

"After all that I put up with last night, I think you owe me."

Bryce deflated at that. "Alright. I guess we can-HOLY CRAP! ANNE ALABAMA IS GOING TO BE HERE! I HAVE TO MEET HER! PLEASE, CHUCK? YOU KNOW SHE'S MY FAVORITE ADULT FILM STAR!" He just _had_ to notice that poster with times for her meet-and-greet.

"No, come on. I want to leave."

"But Chuck! Please, I really really really want to get an autograph. Please please please pretty please?" At this point, Bryce was jumping foot to foot like a little kid begging for a toy. And he was getting extremely whiny.

"No, I'm putting my foot down. I know that you have all of her movies and that you are a fan, but I want to get out of here and-"

"AAIIGGHHH! THERE SHE IS!" Chuck could hardly believe that his sort of suave friend had just shrieked like a _Twilight_ fangirl and was jumping up and down and pointing at Anne Alabama, despite the fact that _Twilight _mania had not swept yet.

Giving up, Chuck said, "Alright. Go ahead and meet her. I'm going to wait outside. So how about we-" Bryce dashed off before Chuck could complete his sentence. With a sigh, Chuck started walking off.

* * *

Chuck was slouching along looking down at the floor in an attempt to exit. However, he was stopped by a beautiful woman in a small top and very tight jeans. Chuck felt himself blush as she slowly and predatorily looked him up and down.

"You know," she huskily whispered to him, "I happened to notice you walking by. You are, indeed, quite an attractive man. Tall, lean, utterly _sexy._"

Chuck was absolutely still. He really did not want to follow the line of thinking he might be led down in this situation. Actually, he kind of did. But you know how much of a respectful nerd (read: prude) he is.

"However, there is one thing wrong. One _small_ thing." She reached around with both hands and grabbed his ass. "You have no ass." **(1)**

"Hm, she's right you know," a woman from a nearby vendor cut in. "You're kind of flatsville back there."

"What?" Chuck was having a hard time processing what was going on. He looks between the two woman, trying to understand the situation. First, he gets called hot. Then a bunch of people are telling him he has no ass. What the hell?

"But you know what?" the second woman continued. "You don't have to live with that. A lot of people in the United States are disappointed with their woefully underpadded lower cheeks. Some resort to butt implants to give them a boost in their behinds. The downside of such surgery is that it's painful and takes a long time to recover."

"Yeah," the first woman concurred, let's call her Beth. "I mean, boob jobs don't have such a long and painful recovery period because we don't use our boobs to walk. But we use our legs, which are connected to our butts, to walk. The constant use gives little time to heal."

"But now, there is an incredible alternative to surgery that won't bust the bank or your body." With a flourish, the second woman, let's call her Jenny, whipped out an odd looking strap contraption. "Behold, the WonderButt!"

"The WonderButt?" Chuck was in a low level state of shock.

"Yup," said Beth. "The WonderButt works wonders on your butt. It provides lift-" Beth took one cheek in each hand and lifted, "-which increases plumpness." Here, Beth squeezed Chuck's cheeks, trying to give a hands-on demonstration of how the WonderButt works.

"Hold on a minute." Here, Chuck wrenched himself out of Beth's grasp. "Are you trying to sell me a WonderBra for my butt?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Jenny answered. "But it seriously works. I'm actually wearing one right now. Look."

Before Chuck could decline, Jenny turned around and pulled her pants down. Chuck automatically deferred his eyes in respect and embarrassment, but Beth pushed his head back to look. Chuck couldn't help but look at the straps that were increasing her bottom cleavage.

"As you can see," Jenny continued, "the WonderButt comes in a variety of colors. It is also easy to put on and take off. The fleshy colors are the most popular since they aren't as noticeable. That comes quite in handy when you are on camera and don't want people to see that you need a little extra support."

"Um," Chuck stammered, "that seems to be a little uncomfortable. And, uh, can I go? I mean, you seem to be having a very effective sales pitch, but ah, I should be going."

As Jenny pulled her pants up, Beth spun him around and looked him deep in the eye. "Just so you know, the WonderButt is a very good deal. For the low low price of $19.99, you get three WonderButts in the colors of your choice. And as a convention special, we are throwing in two pairs of padded underwear to further increase your derriere. They are a quick and easy way to enhance your cheeks and are a perfect supplement for the WonderButt package."

Beth turned Chuck around again and pushed him into Jenny, who was sitting on the table. Jenny quickly wrapped her legs around Chuck's hips and pulled him flush against her. "A girl really loves to dig her heels into her lover's ass. Especially a nice and meaty one. You may be fine with your ass now, but a little lift will give you confidence and some nice cushioning."

Beth demonstrated her point. Chuck was kind of embarrassed and wanted to get away. _Stupid Bryce putting me into these situations._

"Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I really have to find my friend. I have to pull him away from the ridiculously long line to see Anne Alabama so that we can get out of here and on our way."

"Really?" Beth purred as she sidled up next to him. "To tell you the truth, Anne Alabama is a customer and she has an order with us. If you buy now your own WonderButt system, you can also take her order over to her and bring your friend with you. Just go right in to the front of the line and you can leave afterwards. Just say, 'Curve and curvier sent me' to the bouncer in front and he'll let you right in."

Suffer the embarrassment of getting the Wonderbutt and get out quickly, or suffer more of the convention? From his point of view, he could see that the wait to see Anne Alabama was three hours long. And Bryce hadn't moved up far in the line.

* * *

"Bryce, let's go. I've got a front of the line pass to see Anne."

"REALLY?" Bryce jumped out of the line and latched onto Chuck in a giant barnacle hug.

"Come on. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get out of here." Chuck forcefully extracted himself from his squeeing best friend and dragged them to the bouncers at the front. Holy cow, Bryce looked like he was about to pee himself from excitement.

"Hey, curve and curvier sent me," Chuck told the bouncer in front and he held a bag up. He was nodded through with his super excited friend in tow. Chuck and Bryce entered a partitioned area where Anne Alabama was reclining on a heart-shaped bed with many pillows.

"You guys are pretty hot. How about you come over here and get cozy. Autographs are $15 and pictures are $20," she purred at them.

Bryce was frozen in shock and awe at seeing his favorite adult film actress. Meanwhile, Chuck walked over with her order.

"Here, this is from curve and curvier. They talked me into delivering this for you since they are really busy with their booth. And you're really busy too, considering the line outside." Chuck held out the package, which Anne eagerly took from him.

"Thank you so much," she enthused gratefully. "I needed a new set 'Sinful Peach' since my S&M video last week. These things work great. I just need a subtle lift for my ass to be so much more tempting. And they're very hard to see, which is great for when you're on camera or with that special someone."

"The girls at the booth were giving me quite a pitch. I finally bought a set so that I could get out of there and get my friend with the fish impression over there to see you. They kept telling me that I have a flat ass and that the WonderButt will fix that."

"Let me see." Anne flipped Chuck onto his stomach on the bed and straddled his legs. She began poking and kneading his ass in appraisal. "My expert opinion says that your ass _is_ a little flat. However, it is still nice and cute. Also in my honest and expert opinion, the WonderButt will plump your butt up just enough to be even more enticing. It won't be immediately noticeable, but it is one of those lifts that will go a long ways."

* * *

Bryce was frozen. Here was his idol. The most beautiful woman in the world with the best movies in the business. And she was doing something that was utterly _hot_ to his best friend. It wasn't the fact that she was getting sweet on Chuck, it was that he still hadn't moved.

In his fantasies, Bryce's meeting with Anne Alabama would start off with him making a debonair and badass entrance into the alcove. He would strut over to her, sexily and suavely recline on the bed next to her, and send her a look that was simmering and seductive. He would charm her with his witty conversation, tasteful double entendres, and entice her into a romantic evening after a long day dealing with the other lonely nerds and hoi polloi that wanted a chance with this goddess. They would go to the hottest clubs, and then make their way back to a chic hotel suite where he would show her the time of his life.

That didn't happen.

"Oh my God! Anne Alabama! I love you and you're my favorite porn star and I have all of your movies and the downloaded special editions and clips and I've been your biggest fan for years your best work was _Sweet Home in Alabama_ and I've done all sorts of things to myself while watching that movie and I'm a part of the fan club which I've been trying to become president of but the current president keeps putting up a really good fight but by the next election time I will totally trounce him and make sure that the campaign to get you into Adult Film Haven Hall of Fame over Jenna Jameson and I've also seen pirated sneaks of your next movie and I am super excited for it because-"

Chuck and Anne were looking at Bryce in a sort of astonishment. He was kneeling at the foot of the bed clasping Anne's hand and babbling in the longest run-on sentence on record. Anne turned to Chuck and said, "That happens all the time."

"Heh, sorry about that. It might help if you autograph something and maybe give him a picture," Chuck attempted to apologize for his fanboy friend.

"Whatever you say. For you, autographs and pictures are free." She gave Chuck a wink and a smile.

* * *

"You're the best friend ever," Bryce gushed.

Chuck was driving while Bryce gazed dreamily at the autographed photos. The photos showed Chuck and Anne with their arms around each other and smiling at the camera. Some others showed Anne kissing Chuck and vice versa. In all of them, Bryce was a little to the side babbling and geeking out in the most fanboy/girl way imaginable. Chuck had to pull Bryce along with him so that Anne could see the rest of her fans. Bryce had continued to babble and look starstruck the entire time.

"I've got to admit, it was an interesting day. Embarrassing, but nothing that would leave deep psychological scars."

"That's the spirit. It was a perfect day," Bryce answered. "Hey, we still have that purse with us."

Chuck shot Bryce an annoyed glare. "Well, we can find out who it belongs to tomorrow."

"Okay. Oh, bouncing club over there!" At that, Bryce grabbed the wheel and jerked it over. They nearly plowed into a couple of cars while Bryce tried to take control of the car. Chuck and Bryce jerkily reached the club after a harrowing turn into it.

"What the fuck, man?" Chuck shouted at Bryce, still trying to not get a heart attack.

"Dude, it was a great day. We've got to celebrate it!"

* * *

**(1)**Zach has actually talked about his flat ass before. It has also been mentioned a couple of time in _Less Than Perfect_. So I'm not totally off base when I say he has a flat ass.


	9. Yippee Skivvies!

_A/N: Sorry to all two of my readers for the lack of updates on this story. I kind of got sidetracked and then almost four months had passed. So if anyone is still reading this, please enjoy! And I don't own Chuck or Bryce. Also, special thanks to PJ Murphy for the awesome beta work. Subtle improvements equal a lot of payoff._

Chapter 9: Yippee Skivvies!

Rolling onto his back did not relieve Bryce of the feeling of wet and grime working itself into his crevices. _That's what I get for losing my clothes while hammered_, he thought. He knew he had to open his eyes and face the horror of where he was, but there was a part of him that didn't really want to know.

With the gusto of tearing a band-aid off, he opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. He also found out that he still had a ways to go in shaking off his frat boy tendency to slink out of bed at two in the afternoon. He really needed to work on jumping out on full alert for the treacheries the spy world held for him.

He also needed to focus on what was happening. It was dark, smelly, slimy, and wet. Bryce kicked his brain through the hangover haze to get it started on analysis. With a sinking feeling of dread and disgust, he realized where he was.

_How the hell did I end up in the sewer?_

XXXX

Feeling refreshed from the shower, Chuck stepped out and went to his suitcase. While waiting for Bryce, he had done both of their laundry, which he didn't mind since Bryce didn't have a lot left.

He pulled out the stuff that they had gotten from the convention the previous day. In addition to all the garments Chuck had gotten from Wonderbutt, Anne Alabama had slipped him another present: a pair of very chic and expensive silk boxers. He put those on the bed and took out one of the Wonderbutts. Checking to make sure no one was looking, he slipped it on. Looking in the mirror, he noticed that it gave him a very subtle lift. With that, he grabbed the boxers and put them on.

"Wow, it feels like I'm wearing nothing at all." Chuck wiggled his hips to get the full feeling of the undergarments he was wearing, indulging in the sweet pleasures of fine silk on his nether regions. Turning to the side, he checked himself in the mirror and smiled. "I guess they were right. A little lift goes a long way."

Suddenly, a team of commandos burst through the door and surrounded Chuck, massive guns pointed at him. With a shriek, he tried to cover himself with his limbs.

Behind them, a tall brunette Chuck vaguely recognized from a few nights ago stepped into the room. She went up to Chuck, pushed him on the bed, and got on top of him. To be exact, she nuzzled her knee right into his groin, placed a hand on his chest, and held a gun to his head.

"Alright, where is it?" she snarled.

"Where's what? Who are you? Can I put some clothes on first?" Chuck babbled.

She lightly pistol whipped him before putting the gun back in its place at his forehead. "My purse. It had some important information in it, and I need it back."

"Purse? Um, my friend accidently had a purse with him about two nights ago-"

Chuck didn't get a chance to finish before she pistol whipped him again. "Shut up." She turned to her compatriots. "Everyone, find the purse and let's get back. And take him with us."

XXXX

Chuck watched the woman who abducted him rifle through her purse. There wasn't much he could do since he was handcuffed and still wearing just his boxers. However, he did notice that he and his captor were in a nice suite in a nice hotel. And her entourage was standing guard outside, not that he could really do anything about that. His captor's face lit up when she extracted a USB drive and held it out.

"Finally, I can get those plans to Commander Aurella and get him off my back. That has got to be the most annoying person on the planet."

"I'm happy for you and all," Chuck piped up with considerable annoyance. "But was it really necessary to kidnap me? I mean, I don't know anything, and I'm not going to tell anyone about this whole thing." _Except for the CIA._ "And I don't even know your name."

"It's Lucinda, and do you really think I'm that stupid? Fulcrum's been after you for a while, so I thought it would be prudent to take you in."

She paused and looked him up and down. Chuck was feeling very nervous and vulnerable. Lucinda walked over to him and ran her finger down his chest to the waistband of his boxers. Chuck gulped.

"You know," she started with a predatory look. "Hannah told me about you. **(1)** She said you were a lot of fun."

Chuck couldn't fight down the treacherous feeling of desire sweeping through him.

XXXX

Bryce checked the ammunition in the gun he just acquired from the unconscious guard. He had barely caught sight of Chuck's abduction when he returned to the motel room. There was no time to get cleaned up from his repose in the sewer, so he quickly threw on some clothes and tailed Chuck and his kidnappers. The clothes happened to belong to Chuck, which explained why they were a little baggy on him. Bryce also hoped Chuck didn't want them back since they weren't exactly salvageable anymore.

Putting his ear to the door, Bryce listened in to what was happening in the room. It sounded like Chuck was in pain, so Bryce spared no more time in formulating a plan. With a heroic flourish, he kicked open the door and pointed the gun.

"Alright, nobody-HOLY CRAP! WHAT THE HELL?" He flung his arms over his eyes, and then peeked out at the sight.

"Bryce, dude, are you here to save me?" Chuck couldn't really do anything at this point since he was on his back and still handcuffed to the bed with Lucinda on top of him going the full cowgirl on Chuck.

"Who the hell are you?" Lucinda butted in. Amazingly, she didn't stop what she was doing to Chuck. She also managed to pull a gun out of nowhere and aim it at Bryce. Clearly the woman could multitask.

"Well, I came to save you Chuck. I woke up-"

Chuck eyed Bryce's attire with growing agitation. "Bryce, are those my clothes?"

"Uh, yeah. I was in a hurry and they were already out-" Bryce meandered off as the more lascivious parts of his mind took in the sight of the voluptuous brunette giving Chuck the full Cinemax after midnight treatment.

"What happened to you?" Chuck asked, seeing and smelling the state Bryce was in. "Did you sleep in a sewer or something?"

"You're mom," Bryce huffed.

"What?"

"As much as I'd hate to interrupt this witty banter," Lucinda cut in. "We're kind of busy. So how about you turn around and let my guards take care of you."

"I already took care of your guards," Bryce sneered. "And stop screwing my friend. Chuck, what the hell were you thinking? You shouldn't be sleeping with the enemy." He took a moment to think about it. "Unless you're supposed to. Should you be sleeping with her?"

"I don't know, I'm feeling conflicted. And I think the guards woke up."

Bryce didn't have time to react before getting knocked out.

XXXX

"Ugh, why do I keep waking up to a headache?" Bryce moaned. He tried to rub his head but couldn't due to the fact he was handcuffed.

"Shut up," Lucinda snarled and jabbed Bryce in the ribs with her gun. "Do anything to attract attention, and you're both dead.

Clearing the cobwebs from his head, Bryce noticed they were in a semi-crowded area. There were people lining up by some ticket booths to a county fair a ways off. Bryce, Chuck, and their captors were standing off to the side in the parking lot. They were just far enough away from the lines to the fair that nobody was paying them much mind. Except for a couple of odd and quickly averted stares from people noticing that Chuck was still just in his boxers.

"Um, how much longer do I have to stand here in my underwear?" Chuck timidly asked Lucinda.

"Can you please stop asking that and just stay quiet? I'd duct tape your mouth, but that might attract too much attention."

"More attention than me standing here nearly naked?" One of the other thugs jabbed a gun into Chuck's ribs.

Suddenly, Bryce was inspired into action. He knew enough of human behavior to realize when there was the possibility that somebody might be naked, a person's first reaction, regardless of socialization, is to look and confirm there is nudity. After that initial reaction, it is up to the person to look away, cover innocent eyes and berate the nude for not thinking of the children, or just stare and snicker at the hapless victim.

Utilizing that astute insight into human nature, Bryce instigated his plan to draw attention to their plight, take out the bad guys, and save both himself and friend. He pantsed Chuck. More accurately, he _underpantsed _him. **(2)** He accomplished this by falling to the ground and grabbing a hold of Chuck's boxers on the way down. His shout of "NAKED GUY!" certainly didn't hurt his plan, either.

"What the hell? BRYCE!" Chuck shouted as he tried to cover himself when he had his hands cuffed behind his back and his boxers down around his ankles.

The bad guys were distracted by Bryce's sudden move, Chuck's sudden full-frontal nudity, and the sudden complete attention of the crowd near the entrance to the carnival. Lucinda and her henchman couldn't do much in the way of a violent response with so many onlookers. Some people were giggling, others were looking away, and parents were covering the eyes of their kids while shooting nasty glances at Chuck. Bryce used that distraction and uncertainty to sweep the legs of Lucinda's heavies. They went down hard while Bryce got to his feet and aimed a kick at Lucinda.

As Bryce and Lucinda exchanged punches and roundhouse kicks, Chuck tried to shuffle behind a car. Bryce grabbed him and threw Chuck back into full view of the crowd. He fell to the ground and curled up on the ground in a vain attempt to disappear.

"You suck, Bryce!" Chuck yelled in justified consternation. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Sorry man, but I needed a distraction. And your distraction will hopefully attract the cops for backup! Great plan, right?" Bryce dodged an uppercut from Lucinda and retaliated with a fan kick.

"NO, THAT PLAN SUCKS! I HATE YOU!"

"Love you too, man!" Bryce gleefully shouted as Lucinda and he continued to fight. He whooped when one of the other bad guys got up and joined in.

XXXX

"Come on, I really want to go to the carnival. We're already here, we might as well go," Bryce begged his fuming best friend.

"No. I just suffered one of the most humiliating moments of my life right here in front of the stupid place. I am not too keen on facing all those people again." Chuck still refused to look at Bryce.

"It's not that bad. You look great naked."

The more-than-slightly awkward moment finally got Chuck to stare at Bryce. However, the about-to-go-nuclear expression on Chuck's face was not exactly the desired effect Bryce sought.

"Look," Bryce said as he pointed at a building. "There's a magical place over there that dispenses a miracle drink that helps you forget bad moments and makes you have fun!"

"That's a bar, Bryce," Chuck deadpanned.

"And we're going to it right away! What better way to forget the day! Heh, I rhymed." With that, Bryce bodily hauled Chuck over for some liquid courage and instant memory modification.

XXXX

**(1)** I started this fic and introduced random Fulcrum Agent Hannah in an earlier chapter. So no, this is not canon Hannah. It's a different one.

**(2)** Sorry, I know that was bad.


End file.
